


you still do it for me, babe

by makapedia



Category: Akatsuki no Yona | Yona of the Dawn
Genre: Bodyguard Romance, F/M, Seduction, Shameless Smut, implied/slight femdom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-03
Updated: 2019-11-03
Packaged: 2021-01-21 10:35:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21298049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makapedia/pseuds/makapedia
Summary: It's hard to deny his princess anything.
Relationships: Son Hak/Yona
Comments: 11
Kudos: 300





	you still do it for me, babe

**Author's Note:**

> SORRY idk what came over me?? also idk what's up with the spacing?

It’s hard to deny his princess anything.

He’s always been this way. For as long as he can remember, Hak’s had a hard time telling Princess Yona no; she has a way about her, and sometimes he thinks it’s in the way she looks at him, so honest and open, eyes bright like a freshly broken dawn, that makes his inhibitions a little fuzzy -- but other times, he thinks it’s the way she pleads with him, pretty lips pressed together in a bratty pout, the pink of her tongue, teeth parting, as she begs, “_ Please, _Hak, for me?”

Yeah. That makes a _ lot _ of things fuzzy in his head. He’s not proud of it -- General Hak, brought so easily to his knees because of one persistent little princess. _ General _Hak, Thunder Beast, exclusive bodyguard to the only daughter of King Il, swayed so easily by some begging and puppy dog eyes.

It’s not the only thing that hard. Hak has his work cut out for him, surely, doomed to juggle his doomed attraction to one Princess Yona and his sense of duty. But for as difficult -- _ hard _ \-- it is to deny her anything, even if it’s in her best interests, _ he’s _ still harder, as the princess whimpers beneath him, mouth pressed to her pillow, hair fanned out around her, stark against the white of her sheets.

“Please,” she begs, squirming, pressing her hips back to rut against him. 

His princess is so needy. And demanding in her affections, and really, there’s only one (thin) wall separating the two of them from Jae-Ha and Kija in the next room over, so he shouldn’t. _ They _ shouldn’t. 

But she’s so damn convincing, with the way she tries to twist her neck around to look at him, and the way she whines, so familiar it actually hurts. It’s reminiscent of the years they’d spent in the castle, he shadowing her everywhere she went, she stomping her feet and throwing her coy fits until she’d gotten her way -- and Hak almost feels bad, knowing that it gets him going, knowing that, even then, there’d been something that’d stroked his yearning, deep in his chest. Things had been simpler then, and Hak of seventeen could ruminate in those feelings for exactly five seconds before he had to lock them back in the cage where they belonged before wearing the mask of a general. 

They’ve both grown up since then. Yona whines with the same needy demand she always has, but when she looks over her shoulder at him it’s like there’s nobody else in the world. There’s just him, and to be caught in her sights like this -- well, it does _ things _to him. 

Her spine twists as she tries to roll over. Her body is mesmerizing, and Hak gets distracted for a spell, sliding a palm over the swell of her hip. The worn cotton of her sleeping robe is soft and thin beneath his hand, and the warmth from her skin is as alluring as the tongue poking between her lips.

“_ Princess, _ ” he hushes. “The dragons are sleeping. Like _ we _should be.”

Yona is relentless. She wriggles and grips his arm, trying, valiantly, to grind her hips into him. But she’s still too turned around to make it work, and like a miserable little pretzel, she presses her ass to his groin, and he can’t help it, he tightens his grip on her hip. 

“Please,” she whimpers, squirming still. 

She does her best to hike her robe up around her hips, and Hak chokes on the vowels of her name as her skin glows white in the moonlit room. He wonders what’s gotten into her and how long she’s been planning this -- because it’d been a conscious decision, surely, for his master to forgo undergarments -- but the train of thought fizzles out as Yona shoves her hand between her legs.

It’s much too hot in this inn. He should’ve cracked the window a bit more. This princess is a hellcat, a seductress in the making, and he is just a man. If it wasn’t for the matter of her volume, maybe, _ maybe, _ but.

“Pr--”

“Mmmhh,” she moans, and even from this angle, Hak can see the movement of her wrist, can see two fingers desperately sinking into that delicious, pink heat. “I can’t believe that you’re making me do this myself. You’re so meaaaan, Hak…”

Brat. She knows very well how eager he is; he’s so very hard and every bump and thrust of her hips must remind her of the fact. Impatient. _ Noisy, _ too. Desire burns in the pit of his belly, hot and desperate to please, and not for the first time, Hak wishes he had the moral soundness to deny his princess what she wants. Really, really, they should be sleeping -- it’s not that he wants to be a stick in the mud, but they have a long day ahead of them tomorrow, and if Jae-Ha catches wind of what’s going on in his master’s bed right now, Hak knows he’ll never hear the end of it.

Still. Despite his best efforts, there’s a tug in him, a metaphorical collar snugly around his throat, and Princess Yona has always held the leash. 

Said princess works still on getting herself off. Or she works on being as noisy as possible, as to get under his skin. “I thought you _ loved _ meeee.”

He loves her so much that it might actually kill him. Hak grits his teeth and allows himself a single moment of weakness, nudging his hips forward, rubbing against the swell of her ass. She’s soft, and it takes everything in him not to crush her against him and taste the sweat on her skin. 

“I thought you outgrew this,” he mutters, but not once does he stop her from using the hand that’d been gripping his arm to shove his pants down. 

“I’ll _ never _ be big enough for you,” Yona says with a very deliberate sigh. 

He hates her. He loves her. The back of his neck feels hot. _ Her _skin feels soft and damp to the touch, and without any sort of clothes protecting him from her wiles he knows he is doomed to give in. Perhaps he’s the one who hasn’t grown up at all -- Yona clearly knows she has him wrapped around her finger and he still can’t seem to figure out a way to resist her. But it’s so hard to want to resist her when the call is so sweet.

“Needy princess.”

“You’re not cute at all,” Yona says, then squeaks, almost adorably but definitely sexually. Her body goes taut for a moment, like she’s the string of a violin being tuned too tightly, and Hak’s afraid that’s it, she’s found her release without any help from her loyal bodyguard, but then she circles her hips and whimpers his name. “Don’t you want…”

It’s not a matter of wanting. Hak can’t remember a time when he _ didn’t _ want her. Hak can barely remember fifteen minutes ago, before Yona had decided that she wanted him right here, right now. 

“... Don’t you want me?” she settles with finally, her voice smoky in a way it’s never been before. Those two fingers slip out of her and then Yona’s turning to face him, robe drooping open, soft breasts pressed to his chest, and-- “_ Pleaaaase? _” she asks again, and her fingers are so slick on his dick, and Hak swears his heart stops.

It is so very hard to deny his princess anything. Especially when she has a leg linked around his hip, and she’s got him pressed so close to where he wants to be.

But no. She holds what he wants just out of reach, dragging her fingers up his chest, slowly, slowly, until she’s cupping his jaw and looking up at him through her lashes. She’s tiny, and his neck aches as he attempts to look down at her, too, but that damp heat resting just so on him is unmistakable. 

Yona wants it her way. She will settle for no less. Crown or not, Princess Yona still calls the shots. And really, Hak knows he wouldn’t want it any other way.

“You are the worst,” he manages, but his voice is rougher than he expects it to be, and _ that _ seems to thrill her. “What’s gotten into you?”

She looks bashful. _ Finally. _ “I love you??”

There’s not enough blood left in his body to feel embarrassed by the way his cock actually perks at that. All the blood’s run south by now and Hak is merely running on fumes, going through the motions of a protective boyfriend, his brain barely anything more than a warm mush of Yona, Yona, Yona.

He’s so boned. That’s what does it for him. She _ loves _him.

Might as well give her what she wants. Hak knows better than to deny her anything, especially once she’s gotten into one of her moods -- and if he prolongs this, and decides to simply ride out her seductions and see how far she’ll take it before her courage runs dry, he knows they really will wake up one of her dragons.

Besides. Yona has an endless well of courage these days. She’s the one all grown up here. He’s nothing more than her servant. And what good is a servant if he doesn’t serve her?

She’s easy to maneuver. Yona is under him in seconds, her eyes bright with delight, smug smile in place, and Hak would tease her, would relentlessly remind her that she’d just played coy for some dick, but again, there is no blood left pumping around his poor brain. 

Beyond that, he has a point to prove anyway. 

“You’ll never be big enough for me, huh,” Hak mutters, voice dark with something he decides not to address. He takes himself in one hand and takes his time, dutifully circling her clit with the tip of him. She’s so wet already that he slips so easily against her, and it wipes the smile off her face just as quickly as any of their games ever has. “I don’t know about that.”

Now she’s the one undulating her hips. She’s the sweetest thing he’s ever seen, eyes pressed shut, mouth caught in a gasp. Hak’s too worked up to devote his time to teasing her about her blunt want; instead, he circles her clit a few more times, the heat in his gut a barely banked inferno, and every whimper that leaves her lips fans the flames.

But she really can’t wake anyone up. He has to do something about it.

“We have to be quiet,” he reminds her, clinging hard to the one braincell still functioning in his oversexed head. “Princess?”

“Pleaaaaase,” she pleads. “I’ll be good, I promise, just_ \--! _”

_ That _ squeak is definitely cute. Everything about her is cute, though, and _ pretty, _ and Hak could wax poetic about her forever if he was left to his own devices, but he has a job to do and a princess to, ahem, _ attend _to. A demanding desire to sate. He can’t have her doing things on her own, now can he? Not while he’s around to help. What sort of (ex)general would he be?

He’s wrapped so far around her finger. Strangely, he’s mostly unbothered by it. The heat of her is demanding and tight and incredible, and he goes a little slack jaw as he slides into her; she’s warm and ready, and it’s hard for him to think about anything else but how much he loves her and worrying if she’ll actually be able to keep it down.

Her hips fit comfortably in his hands. “Good?”

“Mmmmm.”

“Not too big?”

Her smile is as bashful as it is pleased. “The good kind of big.”

Where in the_ world _ does she get these ideas. He allows her a moment more to adjust before he jerks his hips, a very sudden movement that has her gasping in delight; he knows better these days. When Princess Yona gets into these moods, she doesn’t want it slow and gentle, doesn’t want butterfly kisses and sugared words and to be held as if she’s made of carefully painted porcelain. She _ wants, _ and she hadn’t climbed her way on top of him and bossed him around -- no, she’d batted her eyes and played coy, played pretty little princess, and he’s known her too long now to not be able to read her moods. 

She has her legs linked around his hips before he has the chance to do it again. The heels of her feet dig into his back and that motivates him more than anything else; he snaps his hips, in and out, and the mushy part of him wants to lean over and kiss her, right on her bitten lip. 

He doesn’t. Yona seems to be getting off on this, having this control over him from beneath, eyes bright and positively smoldering; she’s the prettiest thing he’s ever seen, hair frizzy from the cheap cotton of the sheets, robe drooping open enough to reveal the soft curves of her breasts, the pink of her nipples. He wonders, not for the first time, how he’d ever gotten so lucky, but then Yona levels him with such a demanding stare that he can’t help but give her what she wants.

But not without getting what he wants, too. Hak holds onto one of her legs as he drives into her, long and hard, and it’s only when she gasps his name does he lean over to kiss her.

Her hands are in his hair before he has the chance to overthink anything. He sets the pace (slow, but deliberate) and Yona pulls on his hair, and yeah, okay, he can work with that, too. She could yank all of the hair on his head clean off and he’d still thank her. He practically keens beneath her hands. rhythm only faltering for a second before he plows back into her, and it doesn’t take very long for her to fall apart.

Thank god. She flutters around him, unbidden and greedy, legs still tight around him like a vice, and Hak knows there’s no way he could’ve lasted much longer than this. She loves him, for fuck’s sake. How’s he supposed to hold out when she _ loves _ him?

Her smile presses into his cheek, far too delightedly. Like the cat who got the cream.

… Ugh. No. DIfferent word choice. That’s a bit… too much.

“... You could just _ ask, _you know,” he says, once he’s caught his breath, once his heart’s done trying to beat its way out of his chest. “Like a normal person.”

“But you’re a bully.”

It seems they’ll never fully outgrow their roles. Ah, well. He knows he’d be lying if it wasn’t at least a little bit hot, the way she bosses him around sometimes. 

“A bully who just gave you what you wanted, Princess.”

“Mmm,” Yona sighs, very happily. Her blushing cheeks are so warm, and he leans back to admire them. “You sure did.”

_ He _ doesn’t blush, but maybe his neck feels a bit hot, whatever. 

“Thank you,” she whispers, and she has no right, being this cute after (successfully) seducing him into a midnight romp. 

Pink cheeks, bright eyes, long lashes, button nose -- ugh. _ Ugh _. Hak throws himself down next to her and rubs his face. He is so beyond pathetic, and his heart jumps in his chest when Yona whines at the loss of him. She curls against his side, hand over his heart, lips pressed to his shoulder, and dammit all. He can’t just not give her what she wants.

“Come here,” he says quietly. Hak fulfills the daydream of yesteryear and crushes her against him, and she’s still smiling when she presses another kiss to his collarbone, this time. She is simultaneously the warrior queen she’s become and the sensitive princess she’d been, and all of those parts of her are just as endearing as the rest; she likes it when he’s rough with her but still wants to be held gently after. 

And that’s fine. That’s what he wants, too.

  



End file.
